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Sixth
Like this story? VOTE! THIS SUCKS!!! -_- Hello guys! AGIZZIO here (maybe you can start calling me Tyler now, it's my new name). This is the page for my very first story in Writer's Resort. So, I will not make this message long. I hope you will enjoy this story. Thank you for your time. Prologue An Excerpt from Edoltiera 72, Verse 54-68 : And they crashed on the dirt, with their hands shaking in fear, their hearts beating faster than its usual state. Their eyes were teary, and : they looked like children who were afraid of their father's rod. And then one stood up, declaring: "Though I may be weak, I may be : worthless, but my faith will not be shaken. No one can destroy my trust to ourselves. Maybe we are just humans. But we are who we are. : And this belief will not be destroyed even if time itself dies." After this inspirational speech, his comrades stood up, and together, they stepped : one foot in front of the other, then the opposite. They ran towards the enemy. Their hearts were filled with fear, yet their trust is unbreakable. A portion from Exile 36, Side B, 6:25:32 "Is this our end?" You kept asking me that question N. But I assured you that we will never be gone. Though we are humans through and through, we are special. We are like the sun, we set, yet we rise again. Then I saw your eyes. They were filled with fear. What is happening to you, N? 'NOTES FROM THE AUTHOR' So guys, this is just the prologue of my story. If it caught your attention, even just a diminutive amount, you must wait for the next chapters. And I'm pretty sure you will never be discouraged. Thanks! Don't forget to leave a comment below and vote. Chapter One: Shattered Today is the 20th day of July. Under the moonlight, I looked at the house in front of me. In a small suburb community of New Jersey, the house of the Galvin’s is to be found. The front lawn was so tidy, it looked like the owner put all of his time in it that eating. Unlike it, the house itself was empty. The lights were out. There are no signs of human activity. It had been exactly one week after the mysterious disappearance of Sandra Galvin. No one is residing there now. Not until Nick Galvin’s return. Not until I return. Tears started running down my cheeks. I still can’t believe this calamity has ever happened. Then, someone placed his hand on my shoulder. “We must go,” he said. Part of me doesn’t want to leave this house. But I still have a greater responsibility to the world and to my own race. I took a few steps away from the house and positioned the hood from my cloak in place. My comrades were already walking past. We can’t afford to be caught. Not this time. I looked back at my house and muttered, “Mom, where are you now?” July 13, 2013 Galvin’s Residence, New Jersey “About 8:30 in the evening yesterday, a girl mysteriously disappeared –,” said the newscaster on the TV. I’m not really fond on news, most especially those are viewed every morning. I just can’t wrap my mind around the present problems of the society. I have my own problems that I need to solve. But I can’t blame mom. Unlike me, she can’t live without hearing that peculiar in the television again and again. The newscaster continued after cramming his attention to his notes, “after jumping from the rooftop of Tempo Surf.” Wait. Tempo Surf? Isn’t that the largest recording studio in New Jersey? That girl really had the guts to commit suicide by letting herself fall from a 7-storey building. But what the reporter said about disappearing? It’s just impossible. The last time I visited that place was during 7th Grade. Ms. Green, our Music teacher, told us to pass an album with our own songs. That was the worst project that I did. Not mentioning how many times Ms. Green frowned. Hearing the morning news the first thing in the morning is not a good idea when you ask me. Plus, this stupid report just makes me want to do a face palm. As I placed my bag on the couch, I saw a cup of milk placed on the table. I walked towards my usual seat and sat down. After picking up the cup, I smelled its scent. “What a breeze.” Just smelling it made my heart feel a little bit lighter. I took a sip. On my right, I noticed a mirror. I looked at my face and laughed. I look so stupid. My eye bugs were so clear. I admit I only slept for two hours. Not because I was having a conversation with Elise over the phone, if you count three seconds as nothing, but because my head was filled with thoughts. Countless of things that I don’t know where should I put my attention to. I placed the cup back to the table. I sighed. How I wish my life was easier. I stared at my drink, almost forgetting of the day ahead. “Good morning, my dear.” Mom said as she appeared from the kitchen, wearing an apron, designed with red polka dots, and with a wooden ladle on her left hand. I was surprised by her sudden appearance. But I felt like she was there the whole time – like she was observing my every action. “How’s your sleep?” “Just fine.” I don’t like it when I lied to mom. But I can’t help but question my respect to her. Our relationship, in my point of view, was slowly declining. It all started when I saw mom talking with another man. “I think I must be ready for school.” I stood up and was about to get my bag when she walked towards me and said, “I think you must stay inside the house today. You don’t look good.” “I’m alright.” I insisted and picked up my bag. I turned my back and took a step. “I’ll call the principal and tell him that you will not be present today.” She placed the back of her right hand on my forehead to see if I have a fever. “You’re burning hot.” She was about to pick the phone when I brushed her hands off my forehead and said in a raised voice, “Don’t let me tell you that I’m fine a million times. I don’t need your help.” Mom was speechless. Oh no, I said something bad. My heart was skipping. I stared at her, my mother, the only family I have right now. Her eyes were watery. This is bad. I feel guilty. Even though I saw her with someone, she is still my mother. Then she smiled. “Okay. I won’t be in your way again. I’m sorry.” Now, I’m the one who wasn’t speaking. I can’t believe mom would let my words be forgotten like nothing happened. I feel embarrassed. I looked at my watch. The time is 7:44, about 16 minutes until first period. I looked back at mom. Her smile was still there. Then I looked into her eyes and saw the pain that she was feeling. What have I done? I want to cry, but not here. “I have to go.” I ran towards the door and left. I was a few steps away from the front porch when I heard mom’s favorite Chinese vase collection. What’s happening? Mom is not the type that will throw away all the things that she worked hard with. But maybe, she was just letting all of her emotions out of her. Maybe she is experiencing something, too. Maybe there is something that I don’t know. I want her to be alone this time. And when I come home from school, I’ll make all wrong things right. And I want myself to be alone. To cry. To cry. And to cry for forgiveness.